


Cry of the Wolf

by Gaqalesqua



Series: Elder Scrolls Kink Meme Fills [9]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Community: skyrimkinkmeme, F/M, Fingering, Nord, Redguard - Freeform, Skyrim Kink Meme, Smut, Wall Sex, cross racial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5007259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaqalesqua/pseuds/Gaqalesqua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elisif lets rip in anger during Season Unending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cry of the Wolf

“Now that everyone is here, please take your seats so that we may begin,” Arngeir requested, and Elisif noticed that the Greybeard seemed to want to be anywhere other than in the room. “I hope that we have all come here in the spirit of-”

 “No!”

 Ulfric’s voiced boomed through the room and Elisif resisted the urge to roll her eyes and slam her head on the table. She could take one fine guess at what it was that had pissed Ulfric off.

 “You insult us by bringing her to this negotiation?” Ulfric demanded, and Elisif watched the Dragonborn’s eyes flick lazily over to the Stormcloak. “Your chief Talos hunter?”

 Got it in one.

 “I have every right to be at this negotiation,” Elenwen said, sitting like a queen. “I need to ensure that nothing is agreed to here that violates the terms of the White Gold Concordat.”

 “She’s part of the Imperial delegation,” Tullius snapped, as Rikke murmured ‘that didn’t take long.’ That was rubbish. Elisif knew Tullius had allowed Elenwen to come on purpose. The general was a good man and a fine soldier – the Empire had been winning on all fronts so far, even while the Dragonborn sat on the Throat of the World meditating and helping nobody – but even for one so badly versed in courtly tactics, he knew exactly where to go to rile Ulfric into an outburst. “You can’t dictate who I bring to this council.”

 Elisif winced.

 “Please, if we have to negotiate the terms of the negotiation, we will never get anywhere,” Arngeir sighed, and immediately Elisif twigged just why he wanted to be elsewhere. Arngeir was a master of the Voice but not a people person. In a situation like this, she had a feeling he would enjoy shouting them to pieces and leaving.

 “Perhaps this would be a good time to get the Dragonborn’s input in this matter,” Arngeir added, and the Redguard in ebony at the end of the table looked up in interest.

 “By Ysmir’s beard, the nerve of those Imperial bastards, eh,” Ulfric snorted, his gaze directed at Saif, who barely acknowledged him. “To think that we would sit down with that…Thalmor bitch. I say she walks or we walk.”

 Elisif wanted to scoff, but part of her understood Ulfric’s disgust.

 “Transcript the peace council,” Saif replied. “Send her a copy when it’s over. But Elenwen’s presence here is inflammatory. Please, First Emissary, I would request that you leave.”

 Taken aback by the Redguard’s politeness, the Altmer stood.

 “Enjoy your petty victory. We will treat with whoever rules Skyrim,” she snapped, and left the room hurriedly. Elisif had seen the small Thalmor squad outside. No doubt, Elenwen would find herself in trouble without them.

 “Ha! Skyrim would never bow to the Thalmor,” Galmar laughed. “Unlike these Imperials.”

 “You’re lucky I respect the Greybeards’ council, Galmar,” Rikke snapped, getting to her feet.

 “Legate!” Tullius admonished. “We represent the Emperor here.”

 “Sorry,” Rikke muttered, sitting.

 “Now that that’s settled, may we proceed?” Arngeir asked wearily. He looked like he wanted to slap someone. Elisif couldn’t say she didn’t understand. Even Saif, who seemed calm, had his fingers digging into his armour like he wanted to let rip.

 “One moment,” Tullius stated, and a tiny breath of air escaped Saif’s mouth. “I would like to make it clear that I agreed to this council to deal with the dragon menace. I have no authority to negotiate a permanent settlement, and won’t, unless Ulfric turns himself over to Imperial justice. This truce is temporary, and frankly, sitting down with you is generous.”

 “And we of Skyrim know that your Imperial promises are worthless,” Ulfric snapped. “A prelude to a dagger in the back.”

 “As opposed to a reckless murder of an innocent man,” Tullius shot back.

 Elisif twitched.

 “Enough posturing, Tullius,” Ulfric snarled. “If we’re to talk, let’s talk.”

 “Fine,” the Imperial retorted.

 “Are we ready to proceed?” Arngeir asked, and Elisif heard the faintest sound of teeth grinding against each other. “General Tullius. Jarl Ulfric. We have been called here to deal with the dragons. This council is an unprecedented event held at the request of Saif, Dragonborn of the Fourth Era. Respect the spirit of High Hrothgar, and aid the wise Dragonborn in the goal of a lasting peace for all of Skyrim.” There was a pregnant pause. “Who will open the negotiations?”

 “We want Markarth,” Ulfric stated. “That’s our price for the truce.”

 Elisif felt rage boiling up inside her at the suggestion. Markarth? No! It was next to Haafingar, how dare he?!

 “So that’s why you’re here, Ulfric?” she spat. “You dare to insult the Greybeards by using this council to advance your own position?”

 “Jarl Elisif, I’ll handle this,” Tullius warned.

 “General, this is outrageous!” Elisif protested. “You can’t be taking this demand seriously?! I thought we were here to discuss a truce!”

 “Elisif!” Tullius barked. “I said I’d handle it!”

 Elisif stood, slamming her hands down on the table. She noticed Saif staring at her in shock and interest and her face reddened, but she didn’t sit.

 “General Tullius, Markarth resides in the hold next to my own,” she snarled. “Do you want my people at risk of Stormcloak incursion, a mere stone’s throw from the capital?! We need Markarth for its silver mines and its terrain! Who knows how many forces we could hold in those tiny crags and hidden caves?”

 “Elisif-” Balgruuf began, and she turned on him too.

 “You! You’re the reason we’re here!” she yelled. “You would be distracted for an hour, a day at best, to trap this dragon as the Dragonborn asked you to, but instead you demanded that we find another way. Well, we’ve found another way, Balgruuf, and it led us here! Are you happy with your stubborn approach to things, because I’m definitely not!”

 “Elisif-” Tullius warned.

 “I’m supposed to be the next High Queen, am I not?” Elisif demanded. “How does it look, with your High Queen flat out being silenced by her Imperial subordinate, in front of the very man we want defeated?! I’m not some puppet for you to pull the strings of, and I won’t do as you tell me when you insult me for speaking out of turn!”

 Tullius’ mouth fell open, and Ulfric laughed loudly.

 “The Imperial milkmaid has a mouth,” Ulfric started, and immediately regretted it, because the aggressive verbal whirlwind that Elisif was currently comprised of turned on him.

 “You! This whole war is your fault! You murdered my husband to make a point! Congratulations, YOU MADE ONE! Hundreds of men and women have died thanks to your aggravated posturing. The Thalmor are looming over our heads with each person cut down, sensing how weak we’re getting. Meanwhile, both of you have put the Dragonborn off siding with anyone due to the stupidity of your leadership.”

 She paused for breath, panting a little.

 “I am going to go back to Solitude. Clearly, I’m not needed at these negotiations. And you can start showing me a little more respect, General Tullius, or you’ll be garrisoning your troops in another hold,” the woman threatened. She pushed back her chair and stalked from the room, face red and feeling a little embarrassed, though still angry. It was justified! Maybe she was young, and a widow, but was she stupid and childish? No! She knew what she was talking about, and she knew this country better than Tullius.

 As she headed away from the room, she heard footsteps clattering after her.

 “Elisif! Wait!”

 It was Saif, and the Jarl turned in confusion to see him closing in on her.

 “Dragonborn-” she started, and then she found her back against the wall, the Redguard’s warm lips pressed against her own, his hot body pressing against hers somewhat uncomfortably as he plundered her mouth. She moaned in bewildered lust as his arms circled her hips and he dragged her into an alcove, away from the eyes of anyone who might have entered the hall. He seemed incredibly eager, tongue diving into her mouth and wrenching little gasps from her. Finally, Elisif found the strength and willpower to push the handsome man away, and she paused, flustered and panting in need, as Saif stared at her, eyes wild with lust and his own face flushed.

 “What?” she managed. “When?”

 “The way you yelled at them all and shut them all up. It was so dominating. I’ve never seen anything like it,” he breathed. “I knew you were beautiful, but oh Divines, this was more than I’d hoped for.”

 Elisif’s breath stopped. Her yelling had been a mess of frenzied anger and the desire to cry. And he had found her anger arousing, of all things? And…dominating? Did that mean he…

 “Kiss me again,” she ordered, and the Redguard did, devouring her in need as he hitched up her legs and wrapped them around his waist. Elisif whimpered into the mouth covering hers, his crotch digging into hers. She ground against him and he groaned lightly. “Wearing too much,” she whispered. “I’m wearing too much,” she added, and felt the ornate, heavy robe slipping from her shoulders, then her belt came loose and he began to quickly and methodically strip her until she was wearing nothing but a thin, very loose maroon shift. The armour he wore had to be enchanted, because it should have been ice cold, but it was warm to the touch, and a lovely contrast against the cold wall behind her.

 He tugged down the collar of her shift, laying hot kisses over her shoulder and neck. It came even further, and he pushed her up to catch her breast in his mouth. At the same time, both of them glowed blue.

 “Muffle,” he explained, and returned to her breasts, teething against them slightly as he sent shudders of pleasure through her form. Gods, this man was good with his mouth. In a few moments, she felt a familiar feeling of arousal blooming, and wetness grew between her legs. Two warm fingers slipped inside her, and she twisted in need, cupping the back of his head.

 “Mm-wait,” she gasped, and he froze. “What about the council?”

 “They’re busy barking at each other,” Saif told her. “It might be hours before they get out.”

 Hours.

 His fingers curled and Elisif lost control of her thoughts, spiralling slowly towards an end no one else had given her in almost a year. Her toes curled, legs digging into his hips as she squeezed down on him. It was too good, almost, and she breathed out shakily, only to begin whimpering as he drove her closer to the edge.

 “You can scream, Elisif,” he assured her. “It’s muffled. Oh, gods…”

 So she did scream, and when pleasure engulfed her and she dug her nails into his skin hard enough to leave welts, they should have gone ringing around the halls of High Hrothgar. But they didn’t, and Saif groaned in delight as she rolled against him. The Nord fell back against the wall, panting and he continued to lavish her breasts with attention, removing his fingers and squeezing her rear until she kissed him, deep and hard.

 “Fuck me,” she begged, and blushed. “I-I’m sorry, that was crude-”

 He covered her mouth with his own, holding her up with one strong arm as he freed himself from the confines of his armour. The hot, thick length pressed against her sensitive slit, and Elisif slid down, feeling him part her. Dibella, even Torygg hadn’t been this big, and the Redguard grasped her hips, large warm hands roaming over her arse as he began to take her gently. Elisif kissed him, squirming when a long, rough thumb rubbed over her bud, and felt him murmuring in her ear, garbled, gasping Yoku as his hips snapped into hers and he rubbed her deliciously. If anyone could see her now, she didn’t care, but here she was, impaled and pleasured by the cock of a man sworn to neutrality. If she could win over a man like that…

 If she could win over a man like that with a show of power, what else could she do?

 All her thoughts were washed away as he angled his hips, thrusting upwards and into a spot that cleared her head of sanity and replaced it with need. It was wonderful. She hadn’t felt like this for so long, not since Torygg, and she returned his thrusting enthusiastically. Saif knew what she wanted before she asked, and pressed her closer, increasing the pace of his thumb and digging his nails into her rear. The bite of pain made her moan, and within a few moments, she was coming back to another orgasm, body twitching as she neared it. It took her like a wave, and she surged against the Redguard, keening in delight before the sound turned into a scream. Saif groaned, his nails marking her as the Redguard went to pull out. Her legs trapped him against her.

 “Do it,” she whispered, face red, and kissed him again, feeling him spurt into her. The twitches his cock made within her were lovely, and when he was done he almost fell against her.

 “Elisif,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Tava’s breath…that was amazing.”

 “Saif,” she mumbled, blushing. She cleared her throat. “I…help me get dressed?”

 He did, tucking himself away and helping her dress herself from the clothes strewn on the floor. They were cold but it didn’t matter. Elisif was still suffused with the heat from their – coupling? Fucking? Love-making? Coupling seemed the most appropriate word for what they’d done. She found it difficult to look him in the eye for a few seconds, before she remembered he had enjoyed her being in command.

 “Please, feel free to visit me in Solitude whenever you wish,” Elisif invited. “Perhaps, even if you won’t join the Civil War, you’ll swear allegiance to me instead?”

 Saif chuckled and it sent shivers down her spine. He smiled, taking her hand and kissing it firmly.

 “I’m sure we can make some arrangement to ensure my loyalty,” he promised. “Until next time, Jarl Elisif. I promise to make sure that Jagged Crown finds your head and not another’s.”

 How lovely! She felt flattered by his proposal.

 “I would like that,” she agreed.

 “Then I shall see you again soon,” he told her. “Farewell.”

 Elisif smoothed down her dress as he left, re-arranging her hair and pushing it back beneath her circlet. She headed out of the door, and gestured to a few of Tullius’ soldiers outside to follow her.

 She had plans to make.


End file.
